


Can't Take My Eyes Off You

by EquinoxSolstice



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Epiphany, Established Relationship, Feels, First Date, Fluff, Limited Third Person Point of View, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:32:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EquinoxSolstice/pseuds/EquinoxSolstice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rule Number One in Stark Dating 101: he didn't. Ever. </p>
<p>Despite having a reputation for getting any beautiful, sexy, eligible (questionable) woman into his bed in a span of five seconds anywhere from the United States of America and then some, Tony Stark never did the whole dating-slash-commitment scene. </p>
<p>Captain Steven Grant Rogers, however, was a whole different ballgame. </p>
<p>But Tony was confident, he would be just fine. If he could fly a nuke to an interdimensional portal then he could very damn well go on a first date with Steve Rogers. </p>
<p>He could definitely handle this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Take My Eyes Off You

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Best of Today](https://archiveofourown.org/works/799055) by [Pinkelephant42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkelephant42/pseuds/Pinkelephant42). 



> I just used the bottom two pictures for reference, couldn't incorporate the first, but I hope you'll still enjoy the story. 
> 
> First time ever writing for a Big Bang, and I'm excited. The story is non-IM3 compliant, taking off after The Avengers and picking up from there, so no spoilers for Phase 2. 
> 
> Much hugs and kisses to [BobhasRainbowVeins](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BobhasRainbowVeins/pseuds/BobhasRainbowVeins) for being an awesome beta, cheerleader, and all around damage control. Because we both agree that Tony Stark is a little shit that we both love. 
> 
> Title is taken from the song [Can't Take My Eyes Off You](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NGFToiLtXro) by Frankie Valli and the 4 Seasons. I highly recommend you to listen to it when that scene comes. Trust me, you'll know when.  

Despite having a reputation for getting any beautiful, sexy, eligible (questionable) woman into his bed in a span of five seconds anywhere from the United States of America and then some, Tony Stark never did the whole dating-slash-commitment scene. He could literally count on one hand the people he could honestly say he had a decent, serious relationship with. Well, as close to what a normal, romantic relationship was like, being a former CEO and weapons manufacturer now turned superhero. Even his failed relationship with Pepper didn’t count; it was more of a bicker-bicker-kiss-worry-okay-bicker thing. They didn’t go out and have dates (hell, he didn’t even ask Pepper to be his girlfriend, it just happened) simply because both of them were too busy worrying about each other’s jobs, lives, and issues, as opposed to really getting to know each other and enjoying their time together.

Tony Stark didn’t need a girlfriend; he needed a babysitter, so when they finally broke up it was more of a tears-of-relief than tears-of-pain-and-anguish event. She was a good friend, a trusted one, their relationship a what-could-have-been. Don’t get him wrong, Tony still regretted that his life was apparently crazy enough that even someone like Pepper couldn’t keep up, but he _had_ accepted the fact that she wasn’t the right person for him, and he would cheerfully skin alive any man who would try to hurt her.

Captain Steven Grant Rogers, however, was a whole different ballgame.

Okay, so they bickered a lot. And they didn’t get along at first (massive understatement of the century). But Tony seemed to really have a thing for light-haired people that could push his buttons and who really had a great ass (fuck you, he was _not_ looking). And who also turned out to be a damned sweetheart who saved puppies from kicking and kittens from trees and someone who still used words like 'gosh darn' and 'horsefeathers'. As _swear words_. The worst part was Tony couldn’t even make fun of him for it, because it was, well... really adorable.

Yep. He had it real bad.

In true Tony Stark fashion, denial was a river in Egypt and was declared an unmentionable with JARVIS electrocuting anyone (harmlessly! He wasn’t _that_ much of an asshole. ... Actually, screw it, he totally was.) who dared mention it out loud (Clint Barton held the record at 87). It got to the point of Natasha commenting how painful it was to see the two of them do the ‘will-they-won’t-they’ dance, and not-so-subtly threatening him to do something about it or she’d do something drastic along the lines of carving out precious and important body parts needed for sustainable living ... or just locking them in a single room until they caved in, true high school fashion. Tony was pretty sure Natasha could dominate the world with a pinky finger if she wanted to.

Which was really fucking unfair because he didn’t see _them_ bullying Steve around and forcing him to own up to his feelings! Which he did not have, thank you very much _goodbye_. So maybe he had a teensy-tiny-sort-of-not-really-there-crush (he shuddered at the sheer juvenile-ness of it all) on Captain America, but seriously, who didn’t? The guy was the literal American boy-next-door, all blue eyes and blond hair with a smile that made a shallow dimple, maybe about a 0.2mm depth, near his jaw about an inch from the edge–

... Tony really had to stop thinking about the spatial dimensions of a man’s _dimple_ , for god’s sake.

It also didn’t explain why he was standing in front of his mirror at a godforsaken 7 in the morning wearing his nicest threads and making sure that every strand of hair in his goatee was pointing in the right direction. Number one rule in Stark Dating 101: he didn’t. Ever. Tony Stark didn’t date, he fucked, and for a long while he was content with that. This... This was completely different territory.

It still didn’t explain why he was preening at his reflection like a peacock. Wait. He always did that.

“Sir, I believe the rest of the Avengers are waiting for you to come down.” His AI’s dry voice sounded, and Tony fought the impulse to look up, like Steve always did. Damn it all.

“Mi tower, su tower... was that the right term? Anyway, they can wait.” Was it him or were his eyebrows always asymmetrical?

“Captain Rogers is also anticipating your arrival.”

Well, fuck.

“I’ll be right down.” One last eyebrow raise at his reflection, and Tony left the room in a flurry of Valentino coats and Armani dress shirts, soles of his Italian-made leather shoes clicking as he made his way down the kitchen. He was not nervous; if he could fly a nuke to an interdimensional portal then he could very damn well go on a date with Steve Rogers–

The Avengers, sans Thor because he was in New Mexico with Jane, looked up as he entered the room. Double fuck.

“Well well, lookie who’s here.” Barton, once you got to know him, was a graduate of medieval studies majoring in Palaeolithic manners with a masteral in sass (Tony had a doctorate). Which meant he was a Neanderthal with no consideration of the delicacy of the situation at all. “Didn’t spend three hours getting pretty for your date today, huh.”

“You know Barton, there is a nest in the helipad upstairs that has your name on it. You might want to check if your balls are still there.” It was a lame comeback, but Tony thought he could be forgiven for that as he was sufficiently distracted by the sight of plaid and high-waist trousers. The star spangled man himself stood up, beaming at him with a smile so bright one would think he won the lottery or something.

He certainly did, a voice leered inside his brain, and Tony agreed wholeheartedly, because (sweeping his gaze up and down) _damn_.

“Tony. Good morning.” Steve had that shy, ‘golly gee wow’ smile Tony was sure dropped some bloomers in his time. Granted, he was dressed like someone’s grandfather, someone’s ridiculously _young and hot_ grandfather, and he really shouldn’t go through that train of thought, lest he drove himself more insane with the whole robbing a cradle slash being a teleiophile thing with the discrepancies of age and time and _nope, definitely not going there_.

“Hey.” He was reduced to monosyllables. Tony schooled his expression into a more lassiez-faire look, passing by Steve to greet the first love of his life: the coffee machine. Because it was still an unacceptable time to wake up, much less be dressed up and ready to go. Even Pepper knew that he was barely above sentient life form at this hour.

The things he did for lo–laid. Getting laid. Yep. That was what he totally meant to say.

A strong cup and a half of rich French roast later, Tony was less life form and more human, brain starting to boot and process his surroundings. He was now aware that the Avengers were looking at him with amusement, Steve looked somewhat embarrassed, and there was something big, leafy, bright red, and ribbony at the end of Steve’s muscular arm. Somewhere in the region of his arc reactor, something heavy dropped.

Steve bought him _flowers_ , for the love of god.

“I do hope you’re not planning to treat me like a damsel in distress, Captain. Because otherwise? Not cool.” He didn’t recognize his voice, sarcastic with the touch of wit, light and teasing when he was sure he should be choking right now. Was he still breathing? He had to check. Palm to chest. Yep, breathing. If his pulse going 120 times per minute was still called breathing.

“Um, they all said that it wasn’t necessary,” Steve started in a rush, cheeks going deliciously pink, “and I promise I’m not treating you like a dame because I know you’re not one, but I just felt that it was appropriate and–” A well timed hiss had Steve shutting his mouth, but he was still standing ridiculously straight, shoulders square like when he was preparing to go fight off an army of robot bunny rabbits, which happened last week.

Tony opened his mouth, prepared to make a wisecrack on how it was _very much_ appropriate to bring flowers when his date was a man, but a certain Look from Bruce had him stopping, lest he offend, god forbid, Steve’s delicate 40’s sensibilities.

“... Um.” He cleared his throat, because it was itching and not because it was constricting with _feelings_ , “it’s cool, you know, uh... not really offended or anything...” Steve visibly sagged in relief, shoulders drooping and Tony had the acute sense that he just patted a blond Labrador on the head, “just... surprised. Yeah.” And what could it hurt really, they were just flowers, just a dozen red and yellow roses wrapped around in red and gold Iron Man colours...

“The florist said yellow stood for friendship.” Steve offered the bouquet to him, quiet and earnest and still a little shy, “And the red is for... well, it’s still a practice to give red roses on a first date? JARVIS and Clint told me. Even Thor said that it’s a custom to bring a present to the one you’re... wooing.” The blush deepened his cheeks, but still looking determined.

Traitors, the lot of them, make that all of them, actually. Tony carefully did not look at the others as he took the bouquet like one would handle an anaconda, gingerly and very hesitantly. He didn’t know what to do with it. Bash it on someone’s head, maybe? “... Thank you?” It was more of a question, but the right thing to say, apparently, since Steve’s face cleared up, giving him a smile that had that dimple appearing again–

“Thank god Pepper installed some human manners in you, Tony.” Natasha said dryly, standing up and taking the bouquet from him and Tony certainly did not bite his lip and frown and pout at her for taking the flowers away, because he did not get attached to any kind of flora, he didn’t even get the chance to bury his face into it and sniff like a puppy– “There’s hope for you yet. I’ll put it in a vase so it would last longer.” And she left, presumably to find a vase to put the flowers in... and possibly turn the flowers into weapons of mass destruction, she did things like that.

He was indignant. “Excuse me, I do have manners–”

“I’ll bet you ten bucks that it won’t last five minutes.” Clint yawned and slid down the counter, grinning like the damned Cheshire cat. “Have fun and don’t forget to use protection. And use the bed upstairs, I’m not sure your rooms are soundproof, Stark.” He said cheerfully.

Tony bristled while Steve almost choked on the air, “Need I remind you that this is my tower and I can toss you out of it in five minutes–”

“Steve,” Bruce intervened, not looking up from the morning paper he was reading on his tablet. “Don’t you have a schedule to follow? Isn’t that why you woke Tony up so early?”

“Oh, yes!” Steve straightened up, giving Bruce a grateful look that Tony caught, and immediately made him wonder. Schedule? “Tony? Are you done eating breakfast?”

“Uh... coffee’s usually it.” Tony looked down at his third cup and frowned at the censuring look Steve gave him. “What? I’m not hungry.” He wasn’t lying; he just remembered that his stomach’s writhing like it had snakes inside. Coffee was making him jittery. Yeah. “Leave it Cap, I don’t eat this early and I don’t plan on starting to.”

Steve looked like he was about to argue then stopped, smoothing his face over before opening his eyes. “Whatever you say, Tony.”

That was it? Tony expected more resistance. “Okay, so... where are we going?”

“That’s a surprise.” Steve walked over to his already emptied plate and put it in the sink. “If you’re finished we can go now, we wouldn’t want to be late.” He exited the room before Tony could even blink.

Late, huh? That meant an appointment. That meant that whatever Steve was planning, it was somewhere private, or it was something that could only be done at that hour of the day, or it was something that had a strict schedule. Tony quickly narrowed it down to a considerable amount of choices. What could they do in the morning? Not something very physical since they weren’t dressed for that, maybe a building? The MMoA?

“Stop trying to figure it out Tony, you won’t.” Bruce said in amusement, also standing up, coffee mug in hand. “Just go out and enjoy it.”

“Seriously Stark, stop your brain for a moment and just enjoy Steve. A lot of women would kill to be in your place, just saying.” Clint, without the presence of their ever proper leader, placed his feet on the table, rocking his seat back on its hind legs. “Jesus, are you always this high strung on dates? No wonder on one wants to date you.”

Tony stilled at that. Even he knew when to read between the lines, he had fucked up already, even before they went out and he was sure Steve wouldn’t want to take him out again, _goddamnit_ –

“Tony. Breathe.” Bruce’s sharp voice cut through his tangled thoughts. “Calm down.” Calm down? He was calm. He was totally calm. He was cool, he was okay, and his hands were still strangely shaking–

“ _Tony!_ ” A firm shake shook him out of it, and when he came to, his eyes found Clint wincing while Bruce was tugging on his ear like a misbehaving child.

“Ow ow ow ow! Bruce, ow!”

“Apologize to Tony.” He said reprovingly, letting go.

“Okay, okay...” Clint was grumbling, rubbing at the side of his head. “My bad.”

Tony was seriously lost. “What? Why is Birdbrain apologizing? I know the truth–”

“Look, Tony.” Bruce looked at him kindly, patting him on the shoulder. “I know this is all new to you, and you’re very scared–”

“Not scared,” Tony quickly interjected.

Bruce ignored him and continued, “—and you really want to make this work. Steve does too, and you’re both probably trying to make this as easy as possible for each other, but you’re not allowed to run away and stand Steve up.”

“Why the hell not? He was the one who asked, right? I can say no anytime.” Okay, so maybe he wasn’t as calm as he thought, voice edging towards a note of hysteria. “I’m a genius, playboy, billionaire, philan–”

A hand was slap over his mouth and Clint glared at him. “Finish that sentence Stark. I double dare you. I will deck you if I hear that phrase again; it was only funny the first hundred times.”    

“Sure you can.” Bruce agreed readily. “But do you really want to? You’re really not interested in going out with him today? If you aren’t, then you should’ve said no. It’s unfair, not just for Steve, but for both of you.”

Why was it that Bruce Banner knew everything? It was really unfair for him to play that guilt card, because recently, it always worked. Tony licked Clint’s palm, looking smug as Clint pulled back, swore and scowled at him, “Well, yeah, but–”

“Stark. Stop being a pussy and just get out of here, we got this.” Clint slapped him on the back, a little too hard, pushing him towards the door. Tony suspected a damp patch on his shoulder. “You like Steve. Steve likes you. And you finally got your head outta your ass enough to get yourselves on a date. If you don’t do this, then you will regret it for the rest of your living life and beyond. Seriously, just concentrate on Steve’s godlike body and you’re set for the day.”

“I believe that is called objectification and is frowned upon in many relationships.” Tony's voice was dry but his head was feeling strangely light, his chest squeezing painfully. Food. He needed food. Maybe this was because he missed breakfast. He should’ve listened to Steve and ate some toast, or something.

“Not objectification if the person being objectified doesn’t feel like he’s being objectified.” Clint answered smartly. “Now scram Stark, we don’t need to see your ugly mug and Steve’s face in the tower for the day. We’ll have JARVIS lock you out of your lab for the day, too.”

“Already done, Agent Barton.” The AI smoothly interrupted.

“See? Now move. Stat.” Bruce and Clint stared at him, with identically crossed arms on their chests, and Tony was distinctly not impressed. “You know what, screw you Barton, Steve wouldn’t date someone with an ugly mug, my mug has reached number one of Cosmo’s most handsome man of the year, just FYI. And you’re a traitor Banner, the worst kind, and you’re not allowed to play with my homemade collider, you’re mean and I don’t like you.” He huffed and stalked out of there, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He had a date.

* * *

Tony was staring, and he was pretty sure she was staring back.

“Steve...” His voice cracked, he would admit that much, but just a little. Not enough to be noticed.

Yeah, screw you too.

Said man looked up, a helmet in his hands as he saw Tony looking, and his eyes brightened considerably. “Hm?”

“Uh...” Tony didn’t know exactly how to word his... concern. “My car’s a lot roomier, it’s also faster and it’s a dream to drive, you can even pick out the one you want, I have a 40’s Lincoln, maybe you’d want that, I’ll even let you drive it–”

Steve slowly took a good look at his face, then to what he was staring at. When he spoke, his voice was full of bemused incredulity, their earlier almost-argument seemingly forgotten. “Tony... don’t tell me you’re afraid of _riding my motorcycle_.”

“I can ride anything at anytime, Cap. Even you if you want.” It wasn’t exactly a sneer, and Tony couldn’t help the eyebrow wiggle that came with that sentence, it _was_ asking for it, but his gaze didn’t leave the vehicle. She was sleek, black, silver, and shiny. Vintage. Pretty.

Deadly.

“You basically wrap yourself up in a suit of metal armour that can go faster than the speed of sound, into an interdimensional portal, and you’re afraid of a two-wheel vehicle that sticks to the ground and crawls like an ant compared to your suit.” Steve was clearly having too much fun with this information, judging by the way he was smiling in amusement, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you sometimes.”

Tony refused to lose a staring contest with what he considered mechanized death. He was very much offended. Tony Stark, _the_ Tony Stark, afraid of a _machine_? It was unheard of, not to mention completely ridiculous. “One, it’s something that I made and tested, therefore, I know that it’s safe. Two, don’t you dare compare my suits to something like... _this_. And three, I am not scared, you can take that idea off your mind now, that is completely not true, why would I be scared of a bike with a motor?” He scoffed, edging away from the large wheels because, you know, he couldn’t let his Stark radiance be besmirched by second-grade mechanics.

“Sure Tony,” Steve just nodded indulgently, teasingly, and Tony glared back, crossing his arms because damn him, he knew Steve wasn’t buying it. That was a complete, total lie, and they both knew it. Steve came up, running his hand along the leather seats, and Tony had never been so jealous of anything in his entire life. Now he hated the damn things more than ever. The moment they came back, he was building Steve a better bike with better specs.

“Come on, Liberty’s not going to hurt you,” he said and then paused, ears turning into a light shade of pink as Tony smirked at him this time.

“You named your motorcycle _Liberty_?” He guffawed, could Steve Rogers get any more real? It was so heart meltingly cute that Tony was starting to get hives. “Why is she a ‘she’ anyway?”

“Because all the ladies I know are more dependable than men. Besides, it doesn’t feel right to call her a ‘he’.” Steve was still blushing, patting the bike and carefully not looking at Tony and it filled him with a warm, heady emotion, making his heart stutter. He squashed the feeling viciously. “I’ve never been too fond of cars, never had a use for them, riding was something that just stuck with me. I hope you don’t mind us using her.” He looked up then, and come on, it was completely unfair to use that look on him because if Tony refused, he would feel like he was the worst scum ever to exist, kicking the already wet, malnourished, metaphorical puppy into the curb while it was still raining. With the intensity of a thunderstorm. With a high possibility of flooding.

Granted, he could probably refuse Steve if he really, really, really tried enough, but any other objection Tony wanted to raise (and believe him, he could make a lot if he didn’t really want it), died in his throat when Steve titled his head up to look at him with a slightly bashful smile.

“You can hold on to me for balance if it would make you feel grounded. I wouldn’t mind.”

... Choosing between the very high possibility of dying by vehicular malfunction and/or accident and the golden opportunity of running his hands and arms along Steve’s (albeit clothed) rock hard abs and trim waist?

It wasn’t a hard decision to make. At all.

“Let’s do it.” Screw death, this wasn’t something Tony was willing to pass up on, especially when he was trying so hard to keep his hands to himself, he was dying to cop a feel, just for reference and to fuel his fantasies. When a guy’s only relationship was with his right hand at the moment, he could take what he could get.

You know, just not too much, or Steve would get distracted and who knows what would happen to them.

Tony was about to swing his legs to straddle the bike when Steve came up to him. “Just a sec.” And then something was placed over Tony’s head, circular and a little big and he flailed when it momentarily obscured his vision. The snap under his chin made his eyes widen.

“What the hell?!” He spluttered, pushing the helmet back with the heel of his hand, batting Steve’s hands away as he tried to adjust the straps. “I don’t need a helmet! The only thing I’m putting on my head is a hat and my Iron Man helmet! I’m going to have helmet hair for god’s sake! It’s lame, it’s ugly, and it’s totally not sexy!”

“This is a kind of a hat. Stop squirming,” Steve admonished lightly, a thumb running along his cheek and Tony immediately stilled, skin turning warm under Steve’s touch. He glanced up at Steve, only to find Steve staring intently back, breath halting as Steve’s hands gradually stilled, resting on Tony’s jaw.

Tony swallowed thickly, willing his heart to stop sprinting. Something hot bubbled where their skin touched, sharp, zinging. Christ, the attraction he had for Steve was almost unbearable, the magnetism he had as Captain America was undeniable, even he wasn’t exempt, as naturally charming as he was already. But Steve, goddamn Steve Rogers, managed to touch his heart in ways he never dreamed possible, not even when he was with Pepper.

“We should go.” Steve murmured, but he wasn’t letting go, caressing his cheek with a thumb, and Tony yearned, leaning into the touch and his eyes slipping shut–

“Yeah! Yeah.” Tony caught himself in time and wrenched away from Steve’s grip, fumbling with the helmet because _what was that?_ He had to control himself better. His face felt warm. He hadn’t blushed in _years_.

Steve was dangerous. Really dangerous.

Steve’s hand hovered for a moment then was put down, nodding, his face indecisive, as if he wanted to... He straddled the bike instead, shifting forward so Tony had space to sit down, and once again Tony was filled with a sense of trepidation. Not because he was scared, mind you.

 “And? Where’s your helmet, Star Spangled Man?” Tony crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re wearing it.” Steve slid on a pair of aviator shades and come _on_ , that was just plain dirty. Tony didn’t even _know_ that Steve knew how to put shades on and he looked so sexy in them too– “And besides, you need it more than I do.”

“Excuse me?”

“If ever we get into an accident, I want you to be safe, Tony, even if it’s highly unlikely. It doesn’t make me worry too much. So come on.” Steve patted the seat behind him. “Liberty won’t bite.” He smirked, and Tony scowled at him, while his heart went pitter-patter in his chest.

He was not scared. Fine, Steve just wanted him close by? Tony could totally do that. All Steve needed to do was ask. “You really want me behind you, huh? No worries.” He clambered on the bike with the grace and dexterity of a four year old, immediately holding on to Steve’s jacket tightly once he got settled in.

Steve chuckled, and Tony resisted the urge to thwack him in the back, knowing that his hand would break before Steve’s spine did. Steve nudged the stand up and righted the bike, the precarious balance making Tony slide his hands under Steve’s jacket quickly, around his torso, gripping like a vice. Steve slid the key into the ignition and kicked the motorcycle to life, the deep rumble of the engine making an inarticulate sound rise out of Tony’s throat, burying his head quickly into Steve’s jacket to stifle it. Steve outright laughed at that, and Tony really thumped him on the chest for it, hard.

“Are we going or not?” He asked crossly, voice muffled and scathing. Steve, to his credit, didn’t tease him for sticking to him like Velcro, merely running a finger over Tony’s linked fingers soothingly, and over his dead body would he admit that he actually shivered at that, a little.

“Do you have your bracelets?” Tony pulled his sleeve down a little to show the silver and red homing devices, upgraded and battle ready to call the newly made Mark VIII armour anytime, anywhere if ever some inconsiderate villain would show up and ruin their date. Steve’s shield was strapped on the back of the bike, covered up in black, they both knew that the Avengers followed Murphy’s Law to the letter and they were far from stupid. The others assured him though that they wouldn’t be called for nothing less than the destruction of the world... which was usually the case. “Then let’s go.”

“Have fun, sirs.” JARVIS greeted them as the garage doors gradually opened, and with the twist of the handle and the squeal of the tires, they shot out from the basement garage and into the daylight, into the streets of New York.

* * *

Of all the places Tony expected Steve to bring them, Coney Island was at the near bottom of an admittedly short list. If someone told him years ago that he would be spending this day in Coney Island with a hot, blond soldier beside him, he would laugh and ask what they were drinking, because he definitely wanted some of that.

He was still mentally deleting their ride towards the place. He was clingy, he was sure he was holding Steve tight enough to break his ribs if he wasn’t the epitome of human perfection, he might have (almost) screamed once or twice when they pulled a particularly sharp turn. And Steve didn’t have the good manners to rub it in his face, just asking if he was okay, holding him steady while Tony slowly regained control of his limbs. Tony was sure Steve would never let him live it down for as long as he lived.

And now here they were, Tony holding humongous cups of Slurpee with both hands while he watched as Steve tried to win a prize in a game booth. Because it was still early there weren’t a lot of people, but being practically superstars, it wasn’t long before people recognized them. In between lining up for rides and food, he and Steve posed for pictures and signed napkins more times than they could count, but before someone could call the paparazzi and the media, Steve politely told them that they were on a date and he would appreciate it if they could enjoy it in peace like any other normal couple would. Of course, when Captain America asked, saying no would be tantamount to betrayal to the country, so apart from the occasional child whose parents couldn’t stop, they were mostly left alone.

 ... Tony felt that they were going to be first page news the next day. When he checked his phone they were trending on Twitter with a ‘superheroes on a date’ hash tag, and they made it to the flash report in most news channels. The weird part was... he was surprisingly okay with it. He was okay with Steve telling them that they were on a date. In fact, there was a childish sort of glee in that idea, he was dating Captain America and he was sure he broke the hearts of half the women in America (the other half was because they were infatuated with him) and then some.

It was... fun. It was fun. Tony never had the chance to go to carnivals or beaches when he was younger, boarding school and child genius and all. Sure, he went to Coney Island once just for the experience, but there was something different about it when you’re with someone who’s also (hopefully) enjoying it. Steve also had a connection with the place on a deeper level since it had existed in his time, there was that sense of high school nostalgia and Tony found Steve having a sort of faraway look in his eyes while they walked around, seeing another time and place, but when they looked back to him, his blue eyes were clear and certain, as if Steve was sure that this was the place where he wanted to be, beside him.

“Move aside Rogers, let the expert show you how it’s done,” Tony smirked, moving to take Steve’s place because there was no way as a former weapons developer that he would lose to someone when it came to calculating projectile motion.

“Go ahead, and I’ll laugh when you don’t win.” Steve had that mischievous twinkle in his eyes that Tony was proud of being partially responsible for, and he stepped up, holding the ball and angling it towards his first target, mind calculating distance and force.

In the end, Tony ended up losing as well, which turned into a rant about rigging and cheating and Steve had to pull him away from the booth, saying his apologies again and again while Tony raved about injustice and inequality.

“I’m going to sue the fuck out of that man, he totally rigged that game, I had it the last time and the toy didn’t even fall! I demand a rematch, and I want to check if the conditions are free for all! This is injustice, complete and utter injustice! Steve, kick his ass for me! I don’t have my armour right now!” He fumed.

“I’m not going to quarrel with that man just because you don’t know how to hit your targets.” Steve’s hands were on his shoulders, steering him through the crowd. “But I would be happy to kick ass otherwise.” The amusement in his face never really left.

In reply, Tony just slurped his drink angrily, not caring if he got brain freeze. He was just so pissed off. That man was cheating them out of their money, he was sure of it. The throb in his head was enough to cool him down, enough to register what the other man said. “Oh my god, you said ass.” He looked back at Steve incredulously, with a sort of unholy glee. “Wait, lemme get my phone, say it again and I’m making it my ringtone–” He pushed Steve’s Slurpee back to him, rummaging in his pockets quickly.

“To _ny_.” Steve coloured up significantly, looking away, and it was so endearing, Tony couldn’t even. ... He knew he should have listened to JARVIS and stayed away from those fan websites. “I was in the Army, we were hardly gentlemen.”

“So? I haven’t heard you swear since that time with Loki and the Chitauri thing and that was hot, now you totally gotta swear for me, you know that, right?” Tony fished out his Starkphone with a cry of victory and turned around, brandishing the speakers in front of Steve’s face. “Go on, I need proof that I’ve corrupted Captain America and it’s something I need to scratch off my newly made bucket list, stars and stripes version.”

“You didn’t corrupt me, and I don’t understand what that means.” Tony was now completely convinced that Steve was part Labrador, judging from the way his brows furrowed in confusion. “You need to have better goals in life, Tony.” But they stopped, and Steve cleared his throat, making Tony lean forward in anticipation. Steve glanced around, as if making sure no one nearby could hear him.

Then he flailed. “G-Gosh darn, Tony, I couldn’t, not in front of the ladies and children!”

Tony would never, _ever_ admit, not even under torture and death, how much that line almost killed him. Captain America swore _cute_. And it was spoken with a Brooklyn accent too, gosh darn indeed. He should start stocking on insulin if this was going to be a regular thing.

“Oh god, that’s perfect,” Tony was breathless, stopping the record on his phone and setting it up as his ring and message tone for Cap. “That is possibly the cutest way I’ve heard anyone swear.” He laughed, and it was such a long time that he had laughed this hard, or this freely. He felt... normal. Like _of course_ it was okay to go to Coney Island for a date, like _of course_ it was okay to be carefree and enjoy and have fun like most people around them and that no one was going to demand something in return–

It was an instantly sobering thought and he abruptly stopped, only to see Steve looking at him with a sort of wonder and awe, as if he had just known who Tony really was and it turned out that he was a huge fanboy. It was also... soft, like Tony was something unique, something to be treasured. Steve made him feel like... he was someone special.

A region near his arc reactor squeezed tightly.

They held each other’s gaze for so long that even Tony, who had no plans of following social etiquettes whatsoever, knew that they were staring at each other for a bit too long to be considered in the normal, acceptable time range of staring at people.

“W-What?” He asked, willing his face to remain neutral because Jesus Christ, he did not get self-conscious about anything.

“Nothing.” Steve looked away, but his face was thoughtful, biting his lip thoughtfully. He stared off into the distance, apparently thinking, and Tony let him because he needed to get his shit together. He shouldn’t let his guard down like that, god. “Tony, I have something to show you. Come on.” Steve grasped his hand, and they were immediately off.

“Steve, wait! Where are you taking me?!” God only knew what Steve had in mind, and Tony didn’t have a choice but to trail after Steve unless he wanted his arm snapped off, but he had a feeling that Steve would never allow that to happen. His grip was firm but not tight, and it allowed Tony to pull away had he really wanted to, but he found a contentment in letting Steve steer them around. The people parted to let them through like the Red Sea, and he was bemused, but at the same time, intrigued. Where were they going? Brooklyn was Steve’s town, his territory, and despite not seeing it for more than 70 years there would still be things that stayed behind, and maybe that was what Steve wanted to show him.

His world.

They went along 12th Street and entered Surf Avenue, and Tony still didn’t have a damn idea on where they were going. They left the bike in the parking lot, so it wasn’t very far, and Tony glanced up the sky, seeing the sun almost obliterated by cumulonimbus clouds. It was going to rain, maybe this late afternoon. It was slightly worrying; the moment the rain poured down the date was officially over. Who would want to go through a date when it was thundering outside?

Halfway through the avenue Steve abruptly changed direction, into a dim, narrow alleyway, and Tony followed, hearing Steve’s sound of delight when they arrived at the end of it, a small clearing with a square, moderately high platform, looking old and worn and definitely along the lines of Steve’s actual age.

“Where the hell are we, Steve?” Tony took stock of the surroundings, worn and bleak and gray. And beyond, the track of the slightly newer train line above their heads as it curved to parallel Surf Avenue. They were close to the subways then.

“Just trust me.” Steve was already starting to climb onto the platform using the rusty, rickety metal ladder at the side, his still unfinished Slurpee placed on the concrete. Tony followed suit, handing Steve his cup and climbing up to stand on the square platform with him. Looking down, Tony found that the surface was actually a metal grate, lines crisscrossing and thick enough to stand on without trouble. “Hurry up.” Settled in and their Slurpees back in their hands, Tony waited for something to happen.

“And we’re here because...” Honestly, Tony saw no point. Steve wanted to look at the subways with him? “Steve, I know that the view of the subways is very romantic and you’ve probably thought to bring me here ‘cause I’m an engineer and would appreciate objects at work and all but I don’t think this is going to work out–”

“Just wait for it.” Steve smiled, confident, checking his watch, and stayed in his place, clearly something else was going to happen.

“For what?” Tony barely got the words out before a large blast of air hit him in the face. He immediately tensed up, spluttering through the mouthful of air that was just in his mouth, looking down and finding out that the grate was actually for a large exhaust fan underneath their feet. “ _What?!_ ”

Steve was grinning, apparently expecting it already, feet flat even as the wind threatened to tear his leather jacket off his body. It was loud, the whistling in his ears almost making him deaf, and this was like recreating the signature Marilyn Monroe look, only that they weren’t wearing dresses and Tony felt like he was going to fly off at any moment.

“Watch this!” Steve shouted through the din and raised his Slurpee, shaking his straw a little and taking a sip, only to take out the whole straw and blow the Slurpee into the air, the strong current breaking it up into little molecules and disappearing as it went up, all in front of Tony’s amazed eyes.

“When did you learn how to do that?!” This was insane, Tony was definitely installing one of these things in the tower just for the hell of it; even make the wind stronger so they could imitate free fall. It’ll be a blast.

“I hoped that it was still here and I’m glad it is!” Steve said, stepping closer to Tony so they could hear each other over the roar of the exhaust. “Now it’s your turn!”

Tony quickly shook his own Slurpee, sucking as much as he can inside the straw and drawing it out of the cup, blowing slowly and seeing the bright blue drink trickle out, hovering in the air for a short moment before being carried away upwards in a dotted, broken line.

They were wasting a perfectly good drink but Tony didn’t care. He was grinning, trying to create different patterns in the air with Steve, watching them all disappear in a rush, fingers wet and sticky but they had been through worse. They swirled and danced, blue lemonade and strawberry mixing together, blue and red. Tony tilted his head up, keeping a tight grip on the straw, staring in wonder at the play of colour above their heads. It was a damned shame that Steve had his shirt tucked into his pants, else he’d be getting a glimpse of those abs.

He felt light. This was something so simple, so damned childish and yet Steve made it feel like it was a special event. It was something that Steve did before, even before Tony was even born, and Steve was sharing it with him, here in this little corner of the world that Tony didn’t think existed. Tony was used to parties and dinners and expensive, flashy shows of... maybe not affection, but interest. But Steve made him realize that you didn’t need something expensive, something grand, to show someone how you felt. This was the proof.

He was so absorbed in that revelation that his fingers loosened from its grip on the straw and sent it flying to oblivion, making him gape for a moment, and then react.

“Fuck! I lost my straw! Damn it!”

Steve’s only solution to that was to shake his head in mild exasperation and take out his own straw, pushing it into Tony’s cup instead, stepping so close that Tony could feel his heat radiating from his body. He tilted his eyes up, only to meet baby blue irises as Steve slid into his personal space, bending his head down. This was such a cheesy romantic movie moment but Tony couldn’t care less, his other hand sliding up, into corn-silk locks. Their foreheads bumped gently, a hand was on his hip and Tony let his eyelids shut slowly, lips parting as warm breath caressed his cheeks...

The sudden frost on the hem of his trousers startled him, snapping his eyes open and jumping back as the cold crawled into his skin, soaking his socks and _what the fuck just happened?!_ He was about to get kissed, for god’s sake! He looked down, and saw that the Slurpee, his goddamn Slurpee, acquainted itself with his shoes and splattered itself all over his trousers and over to the grate.

He was probably the only person on earth that was cockblocked by a Slurpee.

“Cold cold cold shit!” He was doing a sort of jig with one foot, trying to get the slush out, soaked socks were the worst thing to wear, ever, never mind the fact that it was probably his fault for not paying attention.

Again, couldn’t blame him, about to be kissed by a supersoldier.

Steve was gaping open-mouthed at him, watching him go flounder and flail like an addled fuckwit, this was beyond embarrassing and that should tell something because he’s Tony Stark and he had a hide tougher than rhino skin. Even the incident with the blond bombshell triplets (at least he thought they were triplets) and the NASA centrifuge (because back then he was not letting Johnny goddamned Storm beat him out when it came to outright exhibitionism, and it was creepy to think about it now because he and Steve looked alike…) when it went public was nothing compared to the heat now sliding on his skin, into his face and into his cheeks because he was supposed to be cool and suave and sexy, not acting like a monkey high on LSD.

Apparently, it was enough for Steve.

Laughter. Not the polite, I’m-laughing-because-I’m-supposed-to-laugh one, not the hey-I’m-laughing-because-I-agree-and-it-is-funny kind either, but the hearty, busting-a-gut-here-because-it’s-too damn-funny-and-I’m-gonna-die-of-asphyxiation-if-I-don’t-stop laughter. He was doubled over, clutching his stomach and actual tears were brimming over his eyes as he struggled for breath, and failing, staring another round that was deep and resonated like bell gongs.

It was so unexpected that Tony actually stopped and just stared.

Steve... was so beautiful when he laughed.

“Uh... Steve?” Fuck. He broke Captain America. Fury was _so_ going to ride his ass into the next century, _shit_ , he broke a freaking national hero and it was faster than he planned, this was not in his agenda for the day and he was damning himself for not negotiating a higher bet with Wayne-boy about Clark Kent–

“Sorry, sorry, just a minute–” Steve held up a finger in the universal gesture of give me a moment, gasping and clutching at his knees, face flushed and eyes bright. But the split-second composure was lost and he was off again, so helplessly charmed by Tony’s complete lack of it that Tony found himself completely charmed in turn. He also started to laugh, it was infectious, he did realize how being ridiculous he was being, it wasn’t like the world was going to end if he ruined his $3000 pair of trousers, he could always get another one.

True, Steve was laughing at him, but Tony would have done a lot worse if he was in Steve’s place. And laughing right at his face too, which he could say more for most people, but he was there, he was _staying_.

Then it hit him.

Steve was laughing. He was _happy_.

With him.

 As Tony stared at him now, feeling his heart swell to the point that it might just burst, all the variables and numbers in the evaluation of his feelings eventually pointed to just one solution.

He might be in love with Steve.

 It was both fucking terrifying and positively thrilling.

Tony was shaken out of his shitstorm-levels of an epiphany when Steve spoke up and even then Tony had to make sure that he was back online to hear what Steve was saying. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Hopefully your socks will dry during the ride.” The fan had stopped, which caused Tony to frown, he was enjoying that, and Steve was jumping from the platform to the ground and Tony was totally not jealous. Steve held his out hand to him and it was just sheer Stark stubbornness that he turned his nose up to it and went down the same way Steve did, straightening out his jacket and smirking at Steve’s good natured eye roll. He still had to think about this, fucking qualify and quantify everything because he couldn’t just reach that conclusion without all the variables–

Then Steve slung an arm over his shoulders and pressed a warm kiss to the side of his head, lips tickling the curve of his ear, and Tony’s brain processes came to a stuttering halt right then and there and he almost tripped over air.

... Damn it, Steve Rogers was going to be the literal death of him.

* * *

After an extensive ride back to Manhattan, they proceeded to have lunch, which involved eating the New York food stands out of house and home. Tony asked Steve about the exhaust fan and how the hell did he know it was still there after more than seven decades, walking along the busy 5th Avenue carrying burgers and pizza like weapons of mass destruction. They were loose, relaxed, and so far no supervillain decided to gatecrash the party so it was turning out pretty much to be Tony’s best day in the world ever.

“Well, Bucky and I found that place when we went to Coney Island before.” Tony didn’t miss the tinge of sadness and nostalgia in Steve’s voice, but it was said with an ease and none of the frostiness Tony associated with the other man when they first met (pun completely intended). Steve paused to take a sip of his cola and continued with a rueful smile, “I was feeling pretty sick because he forced me to ride the Cyclone, I was still a little guy back then, so you can imagine. I threw up in that alleyway we passed to get to that place. Bucky went exploring while I was puking my guts out, found the fan, and saw it as a way to make it up to me. Went back for it ever since, Coney Island’s not really my thing. I’m glad that it was still there though, I didn’t know if it still was.”

 “This is an entirely inappropriate conversation while we’re having lunch, do you know that.” With puking and dizziness and all, and Tony stuffed himself with a burger to further reiterate the point. Fuck propriety. He’d been through worse. “So you and Bucky...”

“He’s my best friend.” Tony noted the firm tone and the present tense. “Always had my back, even when I was getting my ass kicked in the alleyways. He said one time that I must’ve liked getting punched, because I would always get beat up in a fight.”

 “Because you definitely have something against running away.” The sarcasm was thick and plentiful. “Jesus Steve, you barely weighed a hundred pounds back then, what makes you think you can take on dudes twice your size?”

 He must’ve said something because Steve glanced at him then, eyes wide and filled with something indescribable, almost painful. Tony would never get used to it, the way Steve looked at things, seeing a time beyond Tony’s own. But it was gone as soon as it came.

 “... You start running, they’ll never let you stop.” His answer was soft, almost wondering. “So you stand up, push back. They can’t say no forever, right?”

In a way, Tony could understand. When he stopped weapons production, everyone thought he was losing it and didn’t give him the time of the day afterwards. It was PSTD, they said. Lying, traitorous bastards aside, Tony had only been defined by the weapons he created, the things he used to destroy people’s lives and homes. When he showed them the suits, they tried taking it away from him because the US government was the kid who couldn’t stand seeing another kid with a shinier, newer toy. But he showed them, he fucking saved America three times and even gave Mark II to Rhodey just to shut their mouths, and eventually they had to accept that he was Iron Man, the suit and him were one and the same and they couldn’t be separated. Never.

“Yeah, I guess I could understand how that’s like, having people fuck around with you because they think they can.” Tony went quiet at that, the silence thoughtful for once, and Steve didn’t interrupt. “But the thing is, they can’t. They can try, and they might succeed, but it’s not gonna last long, because you’re going to be getting them back. Every single one of them, and you’ll give them a big fuck you when you finally did it and watch them eat your dust.” It was vindictive, but Tony had never played by anyone else’s rules but his own, and he was not planning on doing that anytime soon. And if he was following Steve’s orders in the field, it was because he trusted him to make the calls. “If you can’t protect yourself, then you can damn well avenge you, right?”

Steve nodded, offering a smile and ruffling his hair, making Tony scowl. “Yeah. You did good, Tony.”

And Tony stopped, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, because all his life, all his work, all his blood, sweat and tears were all made worth it, with just three small words. You did good. It wasn’t to manipulate him into doing something, it wasn’t to boost his ego, it wasn’t because Steve had an ulterior motive, it was just a simple confirmation that everything he did in his existence was acknowledged and appreciated. Steve knew all the shit he went through, it was in his file for god’s sake, but he still did good. He was good. And that affected him in a way no other person could. Steve wasn’t being facetious.

_You did good_.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m the biggest phoenix metaphor around,” Tony smiled weakly, still overwhelmed. How could Steve say something like that with a straight face, knowing how much that meant to someone like him? Damn it, he was not going to break down in the middle of the street with plenty of people, Jesus, Steve had been pushing his buttons all day and it was not cool.

But this was what dates were about, right? Getting to know people in the biblical sense, knowing what they liked and didn’t like? Tony... Tony could dig this. He could, if it was Steve.

“Is that why the colours of Iron Man are red and gold? And it could fly?” Steve threw his hotdog wrapper and used napkins, in the nearest trash, switching hands for his soft drink so he could take Tony’s hand into his own, rapidly warming up despite the condensation on his palm. Tony kept staring at their joined hands, tensing a little because this was romance and love and nothing Tony was ever trained for.

“Flying is awesome, okay? It’s like, a requirement for superheroes to be able to fly. I was planning on an all gold suit but JARVIS said that it was too ostentatious, so I threw in a little hotrod red. Looks a million times better.” They were walking along the streets of New York, holding hands like a celebrity couple would do. Tony would not be surprised if a pap just zoomed by and took a picture and they would wind up on Perez Hilton’s website in an hour: _Tony Stark, batting for the same team now?! Caught hand in hand with a tall, blond, hunky bombshell!_

Honestly, why put it in a gossip rag when it’s the honest-to-goodness truth? Steve was a bombshell, and Tony would pretty much go with anyone with two feet as long as they held his interest enough.

Tony glanced up the sky, like he had been for the past hour or so. The weather wasn’t looking too hot, the somewhat cloudy sky had turned dark during the course of the day and it was looking ominous. Tony scowled at the sky, the day wasn’t over yet, why was the universe out to stop him from enjoying something he liked, for once? Did this mean that when it rained, it was game over?

He didn’t want this day to end. It was too soon.

Steve noticed him glancing, because he looked up as well. “I think we should get inside somewhere, it’s going to rain soon.”

Everyone else on the street was in agreement with him because people are rushing, taking out their umbrellas and zipping out their coats and the bike was a couple of blocks away. The wind was starting to pick up, and they were staring to run fast, before the downfall caught them outside. Tony barely resisted the urge to stick his tongue out to Steve and tell him ‘I told you so’; at least with a car they could pull the top up and still drive around, at this rate they had to wait for the rain to stop before they could ride back to the tower, and the bike, by then, would be sopping wet.

They were still holding hands, Steve was not letting go. He felt like they were in a Bond movie, only thing that was missing was the handguns and the villains chasing after them, only that they preferred repulsors and a shield respectively and the situation was something merely cloth-threatening. But Tony thought he would make a better kickass Quartermaster than an Agent, his tech could give MI6 a run for their money. He had, on multiple occasions. The thunder rumbled above them, and what was the use of having a thunder god as a homeboy if he even couldn’t control the weather on an important day like this?! Tony couldn’t help but grumble, cursing out loud as the droplets started splashing on his shoulders. Fuck.

“This way!” Steve got them under a small awning a couple of stores down, but by then the rain had started pouring and their clothes were already half-soaked. Steve, by virtue of having the brown leather jacket of cool and badass, just shrugged the water off while his $2750 Valentino jacket was in two shades: upper drenched black and lower still appropriately dry black.

The unfairness of it all was so... unfair.

“Well,” Tony remarked, shaking his head to get rid of the moisture, patting his jacket down because it was freezing cold, seriously, the cold was stalking him lately and he was not pleased. “This sucks.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Steve’s face immediately fell.

Well, shit.

“Look, I didn’t mean that this day sucked, okay, just that it did–!” He said hurriedly and he winced when it was out. Wow, nice job Stark, dig yourself more in your own grave why don’t you, “No, wait, that came out wrong, _shit_ , how do people do this, see this is the reason why I shouldn’t be let out of my cage because I say things that I don’t mean. Well but I do mean them, but oh fuck, I did it again, argh, I don’t know how to say stuff, all right?!”

Whoever said that ‘communication was the key to relationships’ was going to find themselves on the end of his tech, because talking was _always_ the hard part of it. Tony never knew how to really talk, he manipulated, he joked, and he sassed but never, ever had a conversation that involved feelings. It was too dangerous, too close to the mark, and Tony’s heart had been shredded too many times for him to lay it out in the open again.

Could he possibly fuck this up more than he already did? He was really hopeless.

A hand went up to smoothly cover his mouth, Steve looking indecisive, teeth caught in his bottom lip. All he could hear was the sound of the rain pounding over their heads (or was it his heart?), the streets practically deserted except for the occasional car.

“I’m sorry.” Oh, perfect, he really must’ve screwed up royally if _Steve_ was the one apologizing, the one who set practically everything up, the one who made sure he had a good time and made him laugh and made him feel like there was no one Steve would look at except for him. “I should’ve checked the weather report today to see how the weather is. I… I know that it’s not what you’re used to, and I’m sorry if it’s not grand and expressive because I know that’s what you wanted, but I hope that you still enjoyed it. I’ll try to do better next time, I swear I will.” And he sounded so hopeful too, like he was afraid that there _wouldn’t_ be a next time.

Tony just stared at Steve helplessly. What did he have to do to deserve a sweetheart like Steve? The man was perfect, a dream come true. Nothing Tony ever had, or deserved to have. When Steve took his hand away, looking dejected, it was done, game over, it was through, the feelings of failure and rejection so easily seen on his expression.

It was right then and there that Tony knew he had a heart, and it was breaking.

“Steve, you did nothing wrong.” Man up, Stark. “I... look. Steve.” Tony reached out, placed his hand on Steve’s arm, forcing himself not to hide or run for the hills.

It was at that moment that Tony saw that it wasn’t just him who was nervous today. Steve... must had tried so hard to impress him, stepped out of his comfort zone to make sure he was having a good time without all the lavishness and expenses, all to make a good impression on him. To show him what Steve Rogers really was like when in fact, Steve didn’t have to try at all.

The stupidity of it all blindsided him, because he had Steve on this goddamned pedestal and apparently, Steve did as well.

If he wanted things, he had to fight for them, and Steve was something he would have to fight for. He wouldn’t run away, no matter how terrified he was.

It was his turn now.

“I’m having fun.” He said truthfully and Steve snapped his head up, staring at him in shock. “Honestly? This is the best day of my life. I mean sure, it rained, so it immediately sucks because we can’t go anywhere anymore. I really don’t want this day to end. ” He had to protect the things he cared about, and not take them for granted. Tony felt sick, he was laying himself on the line again, but Steve was worth it. He always was. “I want this day to go on forever and ever until you get sick of me and leave and I’m kinda hoping that it doesn’t come to that because I really, really have a thing for you and I’m sure this thing would last... probably for a long time.” More like 99.9% forever, but Tony didn’t want to scare Steve off with the statistics. Yet.

“Tony...”

“No, shush, I’m talking here, let me finish.” Tony raised a finger up, glared, and Steve respectfully backed off, and Steve was honestly unreal because he was shutting up and _he was letting Tony talk_. The man was a keeper. “You’re perfect, okay? You’re tall, blonde and fucking gorgeous, you could have anyone person you like on this planet and they’ll only say no if they’re stupid, blind, a supervillain, or all three. I don’t deserve you, I never have, but I’m stupid and selfish enough to hope that you like me enough to put up with my bullshit, and I won’t blame you if you can’t and you want to walk out on me. I have issues Steve, more than most people could count, and I can understand if you want to stop this, you can go, we never speak about this again, we remain teammates, and that’s cool. Just putting it out there.”

He had to give Steve an out, despite how much it would hurt if Steve really did. Steve deserved at least that, if they were really going to go through the whole dating scene, Steve had to know what he was in for, how much trouble it would be if he got himself involved with someone like Tony Stark. He squeezed lightly, and started to pull back, staring out into the rain, waiting for the hammer to drop.

“Wait.”

His hand was grabbed back, and everything seemed to slow down in those few seconds as coffee brown irises widened, darting to the side to see Steve gently grasping his hand in his own, expression set with an earnestly determined look.

“I’ve heard what you said, and now it’s my turn.” Steve took a deep breath, and stared steadily into him, blue eyes sincere. It was like Steve had the ability to stare into his soul.

“I don’t care, Tony. You’re not stupid, and you’re not selfish. I wouldn’t ask you out if I wasn’t sure about what I’m feeling for you. I was... all right, I’m intimidated.” He admitted and it was incredulous, because Captain America, intimidated of Tony Stark? It just didn’t happen. “You’re like... the representation of this world, modern and always moving forward, while I’m the relic of the past. What could I possibly show Tony when he’s already seen everything about this time, I asked myself. How could I show Tony who I am, without boring him, without making him think that I’m just this plain, simple man who couldn’t keep him interested? Nobody wants to dance with someone who’ll step on their feet, much less trip on the dance floor.” Steve shook his head at that, and his hold on Tony tightened.

“But I’m going to try, no matter how many times I trip and fall and everyone laughs at me. I’ve... I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time, now. I want to learn how to dance with you, Tony.” Steve smiled bashfully and earnestly and _oh god_ , the dimple was there again.

“And I hope that you can teach me how.”

Tony was 100% sure that his heart was stopping somewhere in his chest but who cared?

“Dancing, really? That’s your metaphor?” He asked weakly.

Steve’s answer was the equivalent of a helpless shrug, smiling back at him. “I’ve been waiting for the right partner. So?” Blue eyes were raised in unabashed hope. “Are you willing to dance with me, even if I step on your feet?” He asked quietly.

Tony was 400% done with everything. He was giving up. There was just no fighting against someone like Steve, who was as stubborn as he was and would definitely chase him down every corner of the world if he allowed him to. Tony always figured that if you just wanted to dance, just get up and dance.

But this–romance–was a dance of its own.

He wasn’t sure if he wasn’t going to trip on his feet too, but at least they’ll be tripping together, help each other up, and laugh at their mistakes until they finally get it right.

Dancing wasn’t about the dance, it was about getting the right partner, and...

Tony just found the right one.

“Nobody’s going to laugh at you, Steve.” His voice sounded strange, and oddly determined. “I’ll kick their ass if they do.” His hand, so unresponsive before, now curled around Steve’s, a silent gesture of acceptance. “Come on, let’s roll.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to protest and Tony had to laugh at the role reversal. “Tony, it’s still raining!”

“Fuck the rain.” Tony turned around and gave him a wide grin, baring all his white, dentist-treated teeth. “If we can get through an alien invasion, then we can trudge through this storm like a motherfucking boss. Come on, I’m not planning to waste any time.” He had a plan. And it was a good plan too, well, maybe half-assed but it was the best Tony could come up with. He wasn’t about to let Steve get all the glory points here.

It was a mad dash across the street to Central Park, they didn’t use the pedestrian lanes and Tony could _see_ the disapproval on Steve’s face, clearly gunning his bike to Coney Island at a hundred miles an hour wasn’t breaking any rules at all. He was tugging Steve along, the visibility was pitiful, he was already drenched from head to toe and honestly, not giving a flying fuck. The park was empty save for them, because no shit, who would want to go to an outdoor space when it was raining?

It took a while for Tony to find the right spot but he eventually did, a small, square, concreted area, with a park bench by the side. There was soft music tinkling through the speaker attached to the lamppost at the corner, giving off a muted, hazy glow. Tony grinned. Perfect.

“Jacket off, Cap.” The water was freezing, but Tony had never really played under the rain. First time for everything. “Chop chop, we’re losing minutes.” He was in the process of losing his own, stripping it off and tossing it on the bench, showing his now dark red shirt that was clinging on to his body quite nicely, the blue of the arc reactor just managing to shine through.

“Tony, what are we doing here?” but Steve was about ready to go along with any flow, it seemed, because the leather jacket was off and this was turning into a _great_ idea because now he could see Steve’s abs rippling though the wet cloth, and don’t think he didn’t see the lingering looks Steve was giving his body as well. His blond head was darker, his cheeks were flushed, glancing around unsurely as if expecting something to come out of the bushes.

“I told you that people aren’t gonna be laughing at you, Cap, and I mean it.” Sleeves folded up until the elbow, and Tony pulled Steve into the middle of the floor, the rain still falling over their heads. “Dance lesson 101, first rule: don’t question the teacher.” Tony carefully did not look at Steve as he pulled Steve’s hands up, holding them into the basic dance position: arm down, palm open and curving around an invisible waist, the other up, relaxed and waiting to receive his partner’s hand. “Remember this form, all right? It’s called the closed position. Basic of basics, you’re gonna lead, so keep your back straight, chin up, shoulders down, lock your frame.” Tony didn’t think that months of forced dance lessons rather than ‘tinkering in Dad’s lab’ (though he snuck in at every opportunity he could) was going to prove useful until that moment.

“T-Tony...?” Steve must’ve still looked bewildered; Tony wasn’t going to check, willing the suddenly stifling warmth under his collar away. Why the fuck was it warm, rain was cold, and if this went on then he was going to think of new ways to reduce global warming–

Then Steve’s shoulders visibly loosened, proceeded to follow Tony’s instructions. “Okay.”

Tony didn’t have the faintest idea on what constitutes dancing in the 40‟s (mental note to research that later) but he supposed teaching Steve the basics of modern ballroom will do, since people still do that during formal parties, and Steve (well, the Avengers in general) would be attending one one of these days.

“So, there’s the frame, keep your arms tense, what else...” Tony didn’t remember much, owing to the need of his memory drive storing more important things like schematics of his Iron Man suits, but hopefully enough to show Steve some pointers.

 Rain was still falling on them. Tony stepped into Steve’s space, taking up his arms, putting one hand on his waist, and grasping the other with his own, because how could Steve lead a dance if he didn’t have someone to lead. Tony had done stranger things before, this was something surprisingly normal considering Avengers standards, but it made him feel surprisingly vulnerable.

Thigh to thigh, hip to hip, chest to chest. Steve’s hands were shaking or was it him, Tony didn’t know. Fingers slid up an arm to grasp a tense bicep, muscles pulled taut and similarly calloused hands locked together. Tony never really appreciated Steve’s metahuman strength until that moment, feeling all that coiled restraint in his arms, knowing that Steve could crush him like a toothpick if he chose to.

But he also knew that Steve never would, at least not willingly. Tony took in a shuddering breath, and looked up. Steve was staring at him, for all intents and purposes, watching his every move, cataloguing it in his mind for future reference.

“Okay, so, opposite feet and movement, when I move my right foot you move your left, when I move back, you move forward. Got it?”

“I think so,” Steve answered with uncertainty, and Tony tried to smile encouragingly. Heart being staccato, hanging in the moment. Eyes locked into each other, and Tony, hesitantly, took the first step back.

He should have _known_ that it wouldn’t go the way he planned it to be, because while Steve had the perfect limb coordination when it came to saving the world and everything else in life, dancing apparently was a whole new level of unknown, uncharted territory.

The pain that erupted at his foot left Tony gasping, Steve blanching, and the moment fantastically ruined.

“Oh my god, Tony, I’m so sorry!” Steve hurriedly held him up, deathly pale as Tony bit his tongue, trying to fight the appropriately chosen curse words that were threatening to spill off his lips, resisting the urge to hop on one foot to massage the pain away. What he did though was to double over, holding on to Steve as he gritted his teeth, willing the water in his eyes to leave. “I didn’t mean to, I followed what you said but it was too soon–!”

Tony tried to wave the apology off, inwardly screaming in pain and silently blessing his shoemaker for reinforcing the wingtips or he would have been sporting three broken toes now. Damn, Steve had a heavy foot. “It’s cool, it’s okay, no actual harm done, it happens–” He shook his foot quickly, trying to numb it quickly so he wouldn’t look like a sissy in front of Captain America, “Just, you know, we just need to work on your touch, and it’s okay!” He added when Steve looked noticeably distressed, “You’ve got a sturdy foot and sturdy feet are good! They’re good! Just, you know, try not to step on my foot again? Because I don’t think they can stand much damage anymore.”

“But Tony–”

He took a steadying breath, smiled weakly up at Steve and patted his arm in comfort when Steve continued to look positively stricken. Tony didn’t think that it was humanly possible for one to blush and blanch at the same time, but Steve, as usual, managed to defy all odds. “We can just try that again, take it a little slower, oh yeah, it’s my fault, didn’t tell you about timing and all. Besides, the shoe’s a little big anyway, so the swelling should help them fit better.” He passed it off as a lame joke, and firmly grasped Steve’s arm again when the other clearly was going to carry him off into the nearest clinic and check how his foot was doing.

That said, it became easier. Steve was still worried, and it showed by how much he was tiptoeing around Tony now, but he was a quick study, and soon enough he was matching Tony step by step, his movements a little easier, smoother, more graceful. Tony was pleased, smiling widely while Steve was smiling shyly back, now able to lead him gingerly, but it was enough.

Somewhere along the lesson, the music that was floating over their heads changed tracks, and played something that was closer to Steve’s original time. It was a pretty snazzy tune, with saxophones and trombones, and pretty slow at first. Tony grinned, realizing that it was a perfect song for a swing dance.

_You're just too good to be true._  
 _Can't take my eyes off you._  
 _You'd be like Heaven to touch._  
 _I wanna hold you so much._

He moved back, switching to open position, grasping Steve’s hand with his own, before pulling him close again to spin them both around, a swingout, and he saw Steve’s eyes light up in comprehension.

 “Care for a round on the dance floor, handsome man?” Tony put on his best New York accent, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Steve grinned back at him. “I don’t see why not, Mr. Stark.” His grip on Tony tightened, and he was swept away into Steve’s pace, swinging out to the tune of ‘ _I love you, baby_ ’.

_I love you, baby,_  
 _And if it's quite alright,_  
 _I need you, baby,_  
 _To warm a lonely night._  
 _I love you, baby._  
 _Trust in me when I say_

Tony would never admit how fun it actually was, turning and spinning and sashaying to the tune that was probably older than he was. Steve was an awesome partner, getting into the rhythm easily and putting enough variation into their steps that it didn’t feel too repetitive. Sure, they stepped on each other’s toes often and were in danger of tripping each other more than once. But they clutched at each other and were turned breathless with laughter, going at it again and again until they could change places effortlessly, until Steve could pull him back easily with a flick of his wrist, until both of them felt that they could go on and on forever and never, ever stop.

He wished they never did.

_Oh, pretty baby,_  
 _Don't bring me down, I pray._  
 _Oh, pretty baby, now that I found you, stay_  
 _And let me love you, baby._  
 _Let me love you._

And it was one particular moment that Tony was caught off guard, that he didn’t expect the strength Steve put into that pull, and he was sent spinning, right into Steve’s chest, and the breath was knocked out of him. Steve held him flush, arms winding around his back, supporting him, his own hands pressing against a solid wall of muscle, the arc reactor glowing mutely between them.

“Steve.” One inhale and Tony was dizzy, and it was definitely because of the spinning he’d done. The music was still playing in the background, but Tony was more aware of the now gentler drizzle, the drops of moisture sliding down his face, the way his breath caught in his throat. Steve was just so _warm_ , radiating such comforting heat, and his fingers sought purchase, eventually curling on Steve’s soaked shirt.

Their foreheads were touching, Steve’s breath feathering across Tony’s frozen cheek. His pulse was racing.

“Caught you.” Steve’s voice was a low murmur, hands dipping low, to the small of his back, and it was human instinct to let his eyes wander around Steve’s face, to stare into his pretty blue eyes and easily get lost in them.

Tony licked his lips, eyes darting back to Steve, saw him doing them same. A heartbeat. Distance closing. A large hand coming up to slide along his cheek. And, for the first time in his life, Tony let his eyes slide shut first.

Fucking _finally_.

Sweet. Steve kissed sweet. But there was something masculine and primal underneath it all, as well as innocence. He kissed like he had been waiting to do so for his entire life, like he had come too far, for too long to not make this last.

Slow. Deep. Lingering. Liquid heat pooled in Tony’s gut, as Steve absorbed every resistance he might had have, feeling his bones melt away until he was sure that Steve was the only reason he wasn’t sliding off to the cold, hard ground. A sound escaped his throat, stunned pleasure, and he could only think of one thing.

More. He wanted more.

His arms felt heavy but he needed to be closer. Much closer. It took two tries and he should be embarrassed by that but he’s not, but he’s finally managed to wrap his arms around Steve’s neck, bolstering him up because Steve was too damn tall, but then Steve got the hint and slid against him, keeping him in place, tilting Tony’s head in an angle that created the illusion that they were horizontal rather than vertical.

The only thought in Tony’s head was, _oh, boy_.

After that, it was nothing but sensation and _heat_. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t even raise his voice to articulate his pleasure, his senses all covered in _Steve, Steve, Steve_ , bone melting and toe curling and turned Tony’s mind into mush in all the good ways. Lips parted against each other as they tried to catch their breath, warm, the coolness of the rain a blessing against their heated skin. He parted his lips more to the welcome press of Steve’s tongue, and what he lacked in skill, he made up for in complete, all-consuming passion. Tony had never felt so wholly possessed by someone before, never trusted himself to. But with Steve it was all right to let go, it was okay to just let him take the reins, because he knew Steve would never abuse that power, never use it for his own gain, knew his place with Tony and respected that.

He felt happy with Steve. The happiest he had been in his life.

And before Tony realized what was happening, his heart did a slow turn, a kind of waltz, then suddenly fell.

But all he did was to hold on tighter, and let the rest of the world shatter as the rain continued to fall around them like shooting stars.

* * *

Tony was drunk. Very, very drunk, if it was possible to get drunk without the alcohol. But he felt light, giddy, and like he could take on the world if he was up to it. Maybe that was what kissing Steve Rogers did to you, getting you high on endorphins and dopamine, and an ability like that was very dangerous if exposed to humankind. It was a good thing that Tony was willing to sacrifice himself numerous times for the safety and stability of the world, and would take Steve’s treacherous lips into his own any day, any time.

They stumbled into the elevators of the Tower when the rain finally let up, looking like a pair of drowned cats, Tony tugging Steve by the collar to wrap his arms around him, the leather jacket sitting on his shoulders like he was the high school jock’s boyfriend, but finding that he really, really didn’t care.

“Welcome home, sirs. Shall I alert the rest of the Avengers at your arrival?” JARVIS drolled out, as always the British-sounding, affable, cockblock, artificial intelligence, pseudo-butler of the Avengers.

“Yeah, whatever, tell them we’re home and that we’re going straight up to my floor and if they interrupt us in any way unless the world needs saving, I’m using them for repulsor practice.” Tony gasped a reply as Steve nuzzled at his neck, chuckling, while he did his best impersonation of a koala climbing up a tree.

After that initial kiss, they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other anymore. It was like a wall had broken between them, first date do’s and don’ts tossed aside because they pretty much trashed that guidebook away. In all actuality Tony was suspecting that he was developing frostbite because of the rain, his teeth were chattering and Steve had turned on his ‘mother hen’ mode, fussing and wrapping his jacket around him which was pretty moot since it was also drenched along with them. Sometimes it really sucked to be the most human Avenger.

“We’ll get some coffee in you, but after you get a warm shower first.” Which worked entirely in his favour when Steve was all for warming him up via body heat, and Tony wasn’t about to say no, because Steve was warm, it was practical, and so what if he was cuddling up to Captain America? He was pretty damn cuddly if he would say so himself.

The elevator was just one straight ride up, and they almost tripped trying to untangle themselves as they stepped inside Tony’s personal floor in the tower. The shower picked up again while they drove back, and now the glass-clear windows showed the gale outside, torrential rain and wind, but the inside was warm and comfortable, heater up and automatically adjusting to their core temperatures.

The bouquet earlier that morning was the centrepiece of the living room coffee table.

It was just about the right time for dinner, but Tony still felt completely stuffed. “Tony, why don’t you shower up first, I’ll brew coffee for us.” Steve was already getting towels for the both of them, settling one on Tony’s head, briskly rubbing his hair with his own. “I think you stocked every floor with a coffee maker and had supplies that would last us a year if we rationed it. Black, right? No sugar, French roast?”

The fact that Steve knew how he liked his coffee wasn’t really surprising, considering he didn’t even know how he took his coffee, he just drank whatever’s in front of him. “Uhh, yeah, sure. Don’t want to join me? Saving water and all.” He winked, already going to the nearest bathroom. “You’re welcome to join me anytime.” He barked a laugh at Steve’s still-able-to-blush face, and entered, leaving the door unlocked as an afterthought.

Steve didn’t join him, but when he came out, dressed in a Black Sabbath shirt and gray sweatpants, pleasantly warm and feeling like he was floating in mid-air, the scent of freshly ground coffee made him gravitate towards the mini-kitchen he installed but never actually had a use for until that moment. And on the nearest counter there was a cup of steaming black coffee waiting for him.

Steve was the best boyfriend ever.

... Steve was his boyfriend now, right? Tony wasn’t a man that gave importance to labels but it just felt important to define what he and Steve had. He took the cup and raised it to his lips, letting the insulated heat sink into his fingers, black coffee tasted like shit without sugar, but there was a mild sweetness to it... Steve must’ve put some sugar. And Tony... really liked it.

Because of course he knew what Tony wanted, even if Tony didn’t know that himself at first.

He pushed away his mild panic at that thought. He could catalogue and process information later, when Steve was gone and he was alone, now he should just enjoy this while it lasted.

Wandering back into the living room, Tony eventually saw Steve again on the sofa, freshly showered, with a towel still around his neck, holding his mug with one hand, staring out into the windows. He was wearing one of those tight white shirts Tony loved seeing on him second (because birthday suits were always the first and he hadn’t gotten the opportunity) and blue loose jogging pants that looked worn and painfully comfortable.

“Where’d you get your clothes?” was the first thing he blurted out, because white shirts weren’t really a part of his wardrobe.

“I went to my floor and took a shower there.” Steve turned his head to him and smiled, patting the space beside him. By all means and purposes Steve going inside his floor meant some time doing the clothes-off version of the tango, but apparently there were going to have cuddles and heartfelt discussions about feelings while sipping coffee and watching the rain fall.

Christ, Tony Stark did not _cuddle_.

Domesticity was a foreign concept to him, never imagined that he would have something even close to that in his whirlwind of a life. Steve must’ve sensed his trepidation, because his smile turned a little teasing and challenging and Tony, in a very mature manner, stuck his tongue out and threw himself on the couch, making it bounce. If Steve wanted to be cuddled, fine, Tony wasn’t that much of an ass to refuse him. Besides, he knew he was very cuddle-able.

A duvet was draped over themselves, _where the fuck did Steve even get that anyway?_ , Tony pressed to Steve’s warm side, his hands wrapped around his mug while Steve’s arm was curled around his waist, their legs up and folded on the couch.

It felt... right.

For once, Tony didn’t feel like talking. And Steve wasn’t saying anything either, but merely rested his head on top of Tony’s hair, watching the way the droplets of water cascaded down the glass, the skies beyond it swirling and angry, gray and forbidding. His cheek rested on the cool fabric of Steve’s shirt, head tucked under his neck, and in here, in the Tower, encased in Steve’s arms, Tony felt... safe. Protected.

Loved.

And instead of his stomach clenching tightly, he was oddly contented with that. This was okay. This was all right. And no one was going to take this away from him.

“I had a lot of fun today, Tony.” Steve’s quiet voice rippled through the stillness of the rain. “Thank you... for giving me the opportunity.”

“What, are you kidding me? This is possibly the best day ever. We have to do this again, but this time, I’m the one doing all the impressing.” Tony took a swig of his coffee, he could stay here forever. “We’re going dancing one night, okay? We’ll go to Harlem, maybe they’re still some dance clubs there that are up your alley and we’ll kick the ass out of the competition. I expect to be lifted and thrown spectacularly, understand? People need to see how Captain America moves.”

“Okay, Tony. As long as we’re not out battling monsters or robots, I’ll go dancing with you. ” Those two words never failed to get a thrill in him, that Steve was willing to go along with his whims, but also knowing that he should never take it for granted. Tony was like that, he lavished attention on the people he... cared about. Yeah. He definitely cared about Steve. “Are there even clubs like that now? I’m not sure...”

“I’m sure that there’s still some clubs like that out there. I’ll check.” If not, then Tony would just buy and transform it into one. It might be excessive, but that was how he rolled, he will do anything and everything for the people he gave two shits about, and he would never let them go. He was selfish that way. He was like that with Pepper, with Rhodey and Happy, and being attached meant that he would now obsessively think about their welfare while disregarding his own and that, in turn, made people either angry or intimidated by him.

But for Tony, it was always all or nothing.

The passage of time was spent in relative silence, marked by the eventual clearing of the skies and the slow drain of the coffee cups. If stories and fleeting kisses were exchanged, well, it was something Tony would keep to himself, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder and tilting his head up every now and then to taste the coffee and mint on Steve’s lips. And it was only when the condensation on the windows was left did Tony yawn, despite having caffeine in his system. He placed his mug down on the coffee table, took a moment to appreciate the cluster of flowers in the middle of the table, and was about to cuddle back to Steve’s side when Steve started to untangle himself from the nest of duvets.

“I should go. It’s getting late.” He sounded regretful, but firm.

Good things did come to an end, after all. “What? Steve, don’t goooooo.” He didn’t care that he sounded like a whining puppy, and that he was actually pouting, pulling on Steve’s sleeve like a child, tugging him back to sit on the couch again. “Stay for the night?” He wheedled, babbling it out quickly before he said something stupid like ‘stay here forever’.

“I can’t.” Steve was decidedly not looking at him, and it took Tony a while to understand why Steve couldn’t just bunk in his bed, it was like a couple of feet away and Tony wasn’t even planning to touch him (well, if Steve could be persuaded otherwise then Tony was actually all for it) and just wrap himself around him like a large teddy bear... when it hit him like a two by four. Oh. _Oh._ They might have chucked the first date manual away but Steve still had boundaries, lines that he just couldn’t cross yet.

He could go inside someone’s house, but actually staying over the night was a no-go. Tony could respect something like that.

“... I’ll walk you out.” He said instead, and Steve shot him a grateful look, both of them ambling over to the elevator and Tony pressing the button. Damn it, he should have programmed JARVIS in his mind, because he wanted the elevator to go as slow as it could possibly able. He would have even stranded Steve in his floor if he could, but Steve was right, it was night, it was about time to end the day. Besides, he still had a lot of things to do; he couldn’t let Steve distract him from his work.

“So... I’ll see you tomorrow?” Tony kept his tone casual, leaning against the wall while he waited for the elevator. This was, by far, very much weird by normal date standards because one didn’t usually see their dates daily. The awkwardness was starting to settle in. “And I also enjoyed today, just so you know. Wouldn’t mind doing it again.” He added quickly, just so Steve wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

“I’m glad.” The thickening silence was broken with the soft ding of the elevator arriving. Steve shifted his weight awkwardly, and looked at him. “This is good night, then. Good night, Tony.”      

“Night, Steve.” Oh hell, what was he supposed to do here? Shake hands, hug, _what_? They’ve already kissed, but it didn’t feel appropriate, the atmosphere was stifling. Tony swallowed quickly, and decided in that one instant to just _fuck it_.

He moved forward, grabbing Steve by the collar and yanking him down to crush their mouths together, bruising Steve’s lips thoroughly. It was quick but not less needy, stepping back before Steve could respond, pushing him into the now opened metal doors and inside the smaller, more confined space. 

Tony winked and waved when Steve turned his surprised, dazed baby blues at him. “Have a good night.” And he pressed the button again to close the doors, that’ll show Steve who also had some moves of his own.   

The moment the elevator doors closed and Steve was on his way down, Tony slumped forward, rubbing his forehead tiredly while his head was pressed against the cool surface of the elevator door.

He might be in love with Steve, huh...?

Tony was forced to re-evaluate his data, sighing to himself as he realized the inevitable.

There was no ‘might’ about it at all.

He was in love with Steve Rogers.

And that... sounded pretty fucking awesome to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Just for fun, how many references did you get from other movies? :)


End file.
